


Synopsis: Shadows

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Meta, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-31
Updated: 2003-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 07:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11869149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Synopsis: Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Shadows

**SHADOWS**

An _insane_ Immortal? A _clairvoyant_ Immortal? An Immortal who can project his warped visions _into another's mind?_ One that carries a grudge for _350 years?_ Wrap them all in one deranged package and you do NOT want this sick puppy angry with you. 

Poor Duncan. He's the unfortunate target of Immortal John Garrick, certified sicko. 

Mac has never seriously doubted his ability to conquer his fear. However, he recently assimilated the Quickening of Brian Cullen. Did he not absorb Cullen's weaknesses as well? Cullen warned Duncan that some day he would lose his nerve, maybe turn to drugs to ease the pain. Mac wonders.... Has that time come? 

A sinister presence has invaded his mind, cloaked in shadows, unidentifiable. Yet, it pursues him. 

Has he cracked? 

Can he ever trust in himself again? 

A note about the ending. It was a neat way of giving Duncan time to clean up the loft without explaining the mess to Anne, n'est-ce pas? 

**_New Characters:_**

**JOHN GARRICK** \- Immortal stonecutter, sculptor. Mac saved him from being burned as a witch (warlock?) in the 17th century. Or did he? 

**CORY** \- Mortal jazz guitarist, Richie's new talent discovery. 

**MARGARET OF DEVON** \- Mortal young girl, accused of witchcraft. 

* * *

Joe's Bar, After Closing Time 

The Moonlight Sonata-   
The piano in gloom.   
Mac fingers the keys-   
While dark shadows loom.   
Joe pauses, while cleaning,   
'Didn't know that you play.'   
'I don't,' mutters Mac,   
Idly walking away. 

Dim shadows surround him-   
From night-black to gray.   
The Buzz jars his mood,   
Duncan's instincts obey.   
The challenger's robed,   
Face obscured by a cowl,   
The sword-An Immortal?   
Or a ghost on the prowl? 

No sound does it make-   
But its intent is clear.   
The battle is joined-   
In this foul atmosphere.   
MacLeod's overmatched,   
Soon stripped of his sword,   
One slash takes his head-   
With the music's last chord. 

The Loft 

He _screams!_ Leaping up-   
Sweat dripping, from sleep.   
A nightmare, so real!   
Pure terror, bone deep.   
Anne offers her comfort,   
To soothe his condition-   
But, was it a dream,   
Or a dark premonition? 

Next Morning 

Dr. Anne's very troubled,   
'Duncan, are you all right?   
You've suffered from nightmares-   
Night after night.'   
Duncan changes the subject,   
'There's an art show downtown.'   
Sure, Anne will go with him.   
He's been feeling so down. 

But after Anne leaves,   
After sharing her kiss-   
Mac's mind again plummets-   
To panic's abyss.   
The fiend with the cowl-   
All Mac's moves foresees,   
One swipe of its sword-   
Beheads Mac with ease. 

Downstairs, Anne meets Rich-   
With his new protégé,   
A guitarist named Cory,   
'Anne, you must hear him play.   
He's awesome, a natural-   
A big star he'll be,   
All he needs is an agent-   
And that agent is _me._ ' 

'I'll ask if Joe Dawson-   
Will give him a show.'   
Then he pulls Anne aside,   
He cares, wants to know-   
'How's MacLeod?' 'Not so good,   
He seems so depressed,   
You and Cory might cheer him.'   
But, MacLeod has egressed. 

Art Show, Garrick's Sculptures 

Hideous gargoyles,   
Demonic and frightful,   
Anne notes, 'This guy's childhood-   
Was far from delightful.'   
Evil captured in stone-   
From a mind, lunatic.   
Mac is stopped by the Buzz,   
Anne's concerned, ' _Are you sick?_ ' 

It is Garrick, Mac's friend.   
It's his work on display.   
His mildness belies-   
What his statues portray.   
While Anne takes a call-   
Both men contemplate-   
The last time they met,   
In a time charged with hate. 

Flashback, English Village, 1665 

Duncan's dressed in fine clothes-   
But surrounded by swill,   
Reeling from the town stench,   
'Help me, if you will.   
I seek my friend Garrick,   
Stonecutter by trade,'   
'He's been sent to the Trials,   
He's a _Witch,_ it is said.' 

' _Garrick? A Witch?_ '   
Shock becomes disbelief.   
But, his friend's wrists are bound,   
Garrick raves, crazed with grief.   
His family is gone,   
Their house razed by fire,   
He watched as they burned-   
In that blistering pyre. 

On the platform, quakes Margaret,   
She's convicted, ropes tightened.   
'She's no Witch, a mere child-   
See how badly she's frightened!'   
Let them go!' yells MacLeod,   
'There are no witches here,   
My friend just needs sleep,   
The girl's one crime is fear.' 

' _No!_ ' screeches Garrick,   
'Sleep gives no release,   
With sleep come the demons,   
They give me no peace!'   
The official proclaims-   
'He described with precision-   
From twenty miles distant-   
The fire, in a vision.' 

' _YES,_ I have the _sight!_ '   
Garrick's mind's snapped somehow,   
'Want to witness _real_ evil?   
Watch what I do now!'   
He grabs a man's dagger,   
His intent-suicide,   
'MacLeod, _WE_ know evil,   
In _Hell_ we reside!' 

Mac strives for the dagger,   
Though, he tries his best-   
It's _HE_ who is stabbed!   
The knife's lodged in his chest.   
They have broken the rules,   
In public he dies!   
The whole village sees-   
Mac revive and arise. 

'He's a _Witch!_ Seize him _now!_ '   
As they watch Mac awake,   
Garrick and Margaret-   
Are tied to the stake.   
Mac breaks away,   
Frees the girl and friend Garrick,   
Pulls her up on his horse-   
As the crowd turns barbaric. 

Mac fends the horde off-   
With a mock devil's curse,   
Garrick's safe on his horse,   
Soon the mob will disperse.   
Mac leaves the foul village,   
Content that his friend-   
Was spared fiery torment,   
Hoping his mind would mend. 

Back To The Art Show, Present Day 

' _This_ keeps me sane,   
I hammer the shape-   
Of my fears in the stone,   
It's my way to escape.'   
Garrick gives Mac a statue,   
One grotesque and vile,   
'I hope you come see me,'   
Says goodbye, with a smile. 

Mac and Anne near the car,   
Suddenly Mac's aware-   
Up above... on the fountain-   
The cowled fiend is _there!_   
Mac whips out his sword,   
Fierce exchange-stroke for stroke.   
Anne gasps in amazement,   
Mac's attacking mere smoke! 

When the cops make the scene-   
They see a sight rare-   
A crackpot with sword-   
Is attacking _thin air!_   
'Drop it _now!_ ' they command,   
Going straight by the book.   
Anne has to talk fast-   
To get Mac off the hook. 

Anne is sure Duncan's ill,   
Epilepsy? A tumor?   
'Maybe bad pastrami.'   
(MacLeod tries some humor),   
He assures her he's fine,   
No doctor needs he,   
But Anne is no dummy,   
'You're _worrying_ me.' 

Joe's Bar 

Maybe Dawson can help,   
'No ifs, ands, or buts,   
All the crap you go through-   
Should make you _ALL_ nuts.'   
'Joe, I must find-   
A reason, some way-   
To stop it from coming-   
Day after day. 

Suddenly, the cloaked figure-   
From his nightmare, Mac sees.   
In the gloom, Joe's piano,   
Mac fingers the keys.   
'Didn't know that you play.'   
'I don't.'.... Is it _real?_   
Or has his mind snapped-   
From his hellish ordeal. 

Later 

Joe seeks Richie out,   
Mac doesn't seem right.   
Richie says, 'Mac is fine.   
Are we on for tonight?'   
It's Cory's debut,   
Rich is preoccupied-   
With his new agent role,   
Joe leaves unsatisfied. 

Garrick's Studio 

Mac's last hope is Garrick,   
'What did you feel-   
When your demons assailed you-   
How did you deal?'   
'My demons were personal.'   
'Mine wears a hood.'   
'You've _seen_ it?' asks Garrick   
Mac would beg if he could. 

'You know what it _is?_ '   
'I know,' voice discrete,   
Leading Mac to a figure,   
Tall, draped in a sheet.   
Garrick pulls off the sheet,   
There...in stone is defined-   
The malignant tormentor-   
That's invaded Mac's mind. 

'What _is_ it?' Mac asks-   
When he catches his breath.   
'A dark racial memory,   
It is your fear of death.'   
'How do I stop it?'   
'Recognize the delusion-   
Is all in your mind,   
Do not fight the illusion.' 

Joe's Bar 

Richie's all psyched-   
For Cory's debut.   
Joe's a bit worried-   
That Mac's overdue.   
Richie's only concern-   
That his guy's playing well.   
Patrons clapping for more.   
Cory's stuff's gonna sell. 

The Dojo 

Garrick gave Mac a book-   
Filled with visions grotesque.   
But exhaustion's won out,   
Mac's asleep on his desk.   
Nightmares of the sword-   
It's descending...must _hurry!_   
Then the phone rings-it's Anne,   
Her voice filled with worry. 

Now he's wide-awake-   
But the Buzz makes it seem-   
That his hooded opponent-   
Is real, not a dream.   
Mac charges, determined-   
Using brute strength and skill,   
This specter will not-   
Find him easy to kill. 

Deranged beyond reason,   
Madness fuels his assault,   
Till a voice breaks the spell-   
Somehow making him halt.   
His sword is upraised-   
Poised to make a swift end,   
But before him... _no demon!_   
Only Richie, his friend. 

Richie's face lined with fear-   
Bafflement in each feature,   
He's been slashed 'cross the chest-   
By his best friend and teacher!   
Mac's reason returns-   
With a jolt, he's struck dumb.   
What kind of a monster-   
Has he now _become?_

'What's _wrong_ with you, Mac?   
What the hell is with _you?_ '   
Richie's near crying,   
Mac feels that way, too.   
How could he mistake-   
Richie Ryan for a foe?   
Mac sobs with despair-   
'I don't know...I don't know.' 

Mac lends Rich a shirt,   
Tells him John Garrick's theory,   
Rich does not understand,   
'Mac, you are just weary-   
What you need right now-   
Is some good R & R,   
When he leaves, evil eyes-   
Spy on Mac from afar. 

Outdoor Café 

MacLeod looks like hell,   
Sleep deprived, nerves are jumping,   
He picks at his food-   
As Anne resumes pumping.   
Has he seen a doctor?   
That would be a new twist.   
No medical records-   
For Duncan exist. 

'You shouldn't have checked!'   
Anne responds that she cares.   
' _Mind your own business!_ '   
His shouts attract stares.   
He stalks away roaring,   
Leaving Anne mortified,   
What is _happening_ to him?   
She shudders, teary-eyed. 

The Dojo 

He'll recover his center-   
Somehow and someway-   
With the graceful sword kata,   
That deadly ballet.   
Its rhythm and power-   
Will be his mainstay.   
But it's _back_...in the _mirror!_   
' _Go away! Go away!_ ' 

Garrick's Studio 

'Don't fight it,' warns Garrick,   
'Worst thing you can do.   
Even though it's illusion-   
It can conquer you.   
You are poised at cliff's edge,   
No bottom at all,   
Make the wrong choice-   
And forever you'll fall.' 

'It feeds off your fear-   
And, once you give in-   
And attack...you'll be lost!   
You never can win.'   
Wearily Mac departs,   
Garrick starts chiseling,   
As he hammers the stone-   
We glimpse his carved ring. 

Flashback, English Village, 1665 

Garrick turned his horse-   
In the opposite direction,   
Cut off from MacLeod,   
He lost Mac's protection.   
The villagers' blood lust-   
Boiled at fever pitch.   
This time they succeeded-   
He was burned as a Witch! 

As he smelled his charred flesh,   
The unbearable pain,   
He vowed if he ever-   
Saw Duncan again-   
MacLeod would pay dearly,   
This day he would rue,   
'You left _ME,_ MacLeod,   
But I won't leave _YOU._ ' 

Joe's Bar, Present Day 

Richie's agent career-   
Has hit a new low.   
'Cory just dumped me,'   
He's lamenting to Joe.   
Joe asks, 'How's MacLeod?'   
Rich answers, 'Not good.   
He came after me...   
Wish that I understood.' 

'Rich, maybe he's lost it.   
After four hundred years-   
He's seen so much death-   
Cried so many tears.'   
'Joe, do you trust-   
In this head shrinking stuff?   
Mac's read Freud and Jung,   
But it looks pretty tough.' 

'Garrick gave him those books,   
Maybe they'll hold the key.'   
'Garrick? _John GARRICK?_ '   
He's the wrong one to see!'   
He's not fit to cure-   
Any mental disease,   
He's been insane-   
For a few centuries.' 

The Loft 

MacLeod slumps, exhausted,   
Lethargic and drained,   
Rich tries to make small talk-   
But his banter is strained.   
'Rich, what scares you most?'   
At his voice, Richie melts.   
'That I'll hurt _myself_ \-   
Or I'll hurt someone _else?_ ' 

Mac gathers his strength,   
'I came after you once,   
If it happens _again_...'   
' _No!_ ' is Rich's response.   
'Do whatever you need-   
To survive,' MacLeod rants.   
'You'd better believe-   
You'll get no second chance.' 

' _I CAN'T KILL YOU, MAC!_ '   
Richie's eyes brim with tears.   
He slams out, leaves Mac-   
All alone with his fears.   
There's a bottle of pills,   
Mac's too weak to fight,   
He downs every one-   
And escapes into night. 

Later 

Duncan's drugged, comatose-   
Barely feels the arrival-   
Of the cloaked, hooded form-   
But instincts of survival-   
Are stirred, and he wakes.   
Vision blurred, senses spinning,   
His hand finds his sword.   
A new round's beginning. 

_NO!_ Garrick taught him-   
How to end the ordeal.   
'It only is real if-   
You _MAKE_ it real!   
Do not try to fight-   
You'll empower it more.'   
Mac dizzy, confused-   
Throws his sword on the floor! 

'You're illusion, a dream-   
An imaginary thing.'   
But revealed on its hand-   
Mac makes out Garrick's ring.   
He ducks the deathblow,   
Struggles to comprehend,   
' _Why?_ Garrick, _why?_   
I was your _friend!_ ' 

'You left me to BURN!   
Now you'll know how it feels!'   
He projects searing pain,   
Mac staggers and reels.   
Images from that stake,   
Scorching flesh makes Mac flinch.   
Garrick keeps coming-   
Toward Mac, inch by inch. 

'I thought you'd escaped,   
Garrick, I never _knew!_ '   
Mac jerks from the force of-   
Garrick's fake barbecue.   
They smash through the loft,   
Mac's strength building fast,   
'In your dreams,' Mac tells Garrick   
Then it's over....at last. 

Every item of glass-   
In the loft blown and scattered,   
Lights, windows, TV-   
Wine bottles, all shattered.   
When the Quickening's fury-   
At last takes its toll-   
MacLeod stands relieved,   
Free of nightmares...now whole. 

The Dojo Office, Later 

Mac's relaxed, things are back-   
To the old status quo.   
Rich found a new bassist-   
To try out with Joe.   
Garrick's statue still leers-   
With aspect serpentine.   
Rich will chuck it away-   
Where the sun dares not shine. 

Anne's come to see Duncan,   
She is glad he's okay,   
He is sorry he hurt her,   
Now she struggles to say,   
'Duncan, I don't _know_ you-   
And you don't _want_ me to.'   
She holds out his key,   
She is saying, 'adieu.' 

Mac must let her go,   
He must face cruel reality,   
He dare not share with Anne-   
Knowledge of immortality.   
How he longs for someone-   
To dispel loneliness!   
But he'll never find-   
A replacement for Tess. 

Peace, Emit   
© 2001-2003 

**From _Under the Kilt_ from Highlander: The Official Site: **

David Abramowitz, Creative Consultant   
'The dark side... And we posed a question, if the guy gets burned at the stake, how did he come back? Luckily, we didn't have to stay around long enough to watch him burn. But it was one of those great Immortal questions.' 

**Don Paonessa, Creative Consultant, Post Production**   
'Was one of the more interesting shows. I had a lot of fun on it personally because I shot all the second unit Quickening stuff in the loft, so everything that explodes in the loft, I got to shoot... blowing out the windows, blowing up the TV... that was a good Quickening.' 

**Ken Gord, Producer**   
'I liked Garwin Sanford, he's a good actor. I thought we did a great job with the set. We turned some aberration here, called Fantasy World I think, into Old England and did a great job. We had a burning at the stake. The art direction, the acting, and the story all came together and it was a great show.' 

~ Blackmail   
  
---


End file.
